


Splitting Up

by forensicfairy



Category: Scooby Doo - All Media Types, Scooby Doo Where Are You! (Cartoon), Scooby Doo on Zombie Island (1998), Scooby-Doo and the Cyber Chase (2001), Scooby-Doo! and the Witch's Ghost (1999)
Genre: Daphne Blake - Freeform, Fred Jones - Freeform, Inspired by Scooby Doo, One Shot, Scooby Doo - Freeform, Scooby Doo AU, Scooby Snacks, Shaggy Rogers - Freeform, Velma Dinkley - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:15:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23885830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forensicfairy/pseuds/forensicfairy
Summary: Velma wasn’t accustomed to Fred asking anything of her, unless it had to do with her opinion on who the identity of a cloaked criminal was. Had he ever really struggled to get something for himself, to be anything less than independent? What could he want?Was it something feasible, tangible, like a new pair of shoes that Daphne would squeal over? Or was it something else, something like what Velma herself wished for? The thing that Fred wanted, that he was evidently worrying over, was it something that could even be guaranteed?
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17





	Splitting Up

_“Those two simpletons?”_ Lena had said during that fateful night on Moonscar Island. _“We didn't even bother making wax dolls of them. Waste of time and magic wax!”_

The woman’s words still nagged at Velma, even after all these years. She didn’t know why it bothered her, but it did. Shaggy and Scooby were hardly “simpletons.” They were the light-hearted, fun, innocent members of the gang. They knew who they were, which was more than what Velma could say about herself. There was something infinitely valuable about being true to yourself...about not putting on a front for anyone. Shaggy and Scooby were the most genuine friends she had.

Maybe Shaggy’s fear was blatantly obvious. The way he shivered and shook at the sight of a dilapidated mansion or deserted amusement park, leaping into Freddy’s arms the second that he heard a pin drop. But it wasn't a weakness, anyway. Fear was instinct. It was about survival. They _all_ had different ways of surviving. Daphne was practical and athletic. Fred was tough and inventive. Shaggy and Scooby just took a different approach; a more defensive one. There was nothing wrong with that.

They were judged, sure. That’s what people did, after all. It was normal to observe people and make silent assumptions, wasn’t it? During her teen years, Velma recalled taking pride in her prudent judgment. Each new mystery was another opportunity to scrutinize each suspect, to hone in on their blatant lies— and less evident truths. But her friends taught her that not everything is a mystery to be solved, and not every intention needs to be analyzed a dozen times over. People were usually wrong when they judged.

Daphne wasn’t the “it-girl” who Velma assumed she was when they met in math class all those years ago. Fred wasn’t the player jerk who everyone seemed to believe he was. And Shaggy and Scooby weren’t dumb, no matter what Lena had said.

The lessons Velma learned from them were far more valuable than anything she was taught in school. When she went off to college, she knew she would miss Daphne, and Freddy, and, of course, Shaggy and Scooby. But had she counted on the distance creating a fog among the five, so thick and dark that it felt as if nothing would ever be the same?

After five years, a Bachelor of Science in Forensic Science, a Master of Science in Criminology, ample research, and a ton of stress, here she was. She was different, now, and she knew that. The others had changed as well. Fred joined the army, Daphne graduated with a dual-degree in fashion and broadcast journalism, and even Shaggy had attended culinary school.

Their old mysteries seemed like a lifetime away. The Spooky Space Kook, Black Knight, Creeper, Miner Forty-Niner, Phantom Puppeteer, and the rest of the scary specters were just fading memories. It was depressing to think that she had done more for justice back then, even as a high school student, than now, as a member and researcher of the American Society of Criminology.

Sitting there at the campsite, the flames dancing in her eyes, Velma felt nostalgic. Daphne had her head slumped on Scooby as she drifted off to sleep. Fred, still as boyish as ever, was trying to touch the flames without getting burnt. And Shaggy? Well, he was back at the Mystery Machine, grabbing a bite to eat.

The night glittered with the light of thousands upon thousands of stars. It was October, and the chill was just beginning to break into the atmosphere. Summer’s last breath was stamped out by autumn’s vivacious arrival in a cascade of vibrant orange and red leaves. Another irrevocable transition, she supposed.

...Or was it? Summer was gone, but it would return, even if that was quite a ways away. Perhaps, then, the feeling of the gang’s time together during the golden era of their mystery solving days would return, too? It was impossible to predict. But at least they were here together now, however brief that might be. 

...

The Mystery Machine sped along the dark stretch of highway, each mile sending them further into the vast unknown. The dark scenery around the van was nothing short of a pretty moorland, like something out of _Wuthering Heights._ It had been ages since Velma read that. Daphne’s head was slumped on _her_ shoulder now, as Scooby’s preferred, soft fur was currently snuggled up against Shaggy.

Fred looked stoically on as he drove. There was something different about him. Something that she couldn’t recall from before. For one, the man’s hair was cut close to his scalp, and he didn’t laugh as often as Velma remembered. There was still the fleeting, ephemeral spark of the callow boy who she once knew. She saw it last night, when he was playing with fire like some sort of pyromaniac. 

It was, to Velma, the would-be perfect night. She _had_ to enjoy this. There was no other option besides soaking up every detail of this trip. It felt oddly final, as if this was the last time that they would be doing this.

Perhaps it was. 

Fred was going off on active duty soon. Daphne had reporting to do on television. Shaggy had...recipes to create.

And Velma Dinkley? Well, she had...she didn’t know what she had. The truth was that without the rest of them, she felt as if she had nothing. 

Glancing up at the rear-view mirror, she saw that Shaggy was awake after all. He peered at Fred with exhausted, drooping eyes, a look of longing ghosted across his peach-fuzzed face. Every so often, Fred would look back, his pale blue eyes possessing an uncanny warmth, even whilst being the coolest of colors.

Velma fixated her own eyes on the road ahead. It felt intrusive, continuing to look at them like that. It was too self-indulgent. Anyway, she wasn’t stupid. She knew that there was something there. There always had been.

She shifted slightly in her seat as a bright light shot across the sky. Daphne groaned in her sleep.

“Did you see that?” Velma whispered, pointing at the place in the sky where the comet had just been.

Fred nodded, turning to her for the slightest second. “Yeah.”

He flickered his eyes back to the road. Hopefully they’d make it to the farm before morning. A family friend of Daphne had summoned them in a spur-of-the-moment trip, conveniently only days before Fred was due to leave the country. A vampire, she’d told them. As the legends went, it was her great, great-grandfather. But why was he wreaking havoc on their small marketside business in a picturesque town that seemed to exist in eternal autumn?

This was their newest mystery. And Velma knew, deep down, that it was their last. 

Was it relevant that this creepy caper was most likely just another man in a rubber mask or elaborate makeup? No, of course not. What excited them, or at least Velma, was the fresh discoveries that awaited. There was always something new to learn, something else to explore. And as long as she had the others with her, there always was a new mystery. 

The mystery now, though, was what would become of Mystery Incorporated after this last trip. Velma knew that this time, when Fred inevitably declared, “Let’s split up, gang,” it would mean something else. It was the end of an era she supposed. And endings always hurt.

“Hey, Velma,” Fred said, his voice clashing against the quiet, low _hum_ of the Mystery Machine.

She was surprised that he spoke. 

“Yes?” she asked, turning to him curiously. The blonde soldier kept driving, though, refusing to meet her eyes. 

“I wanted to ask you a favor.”

Velma wasn’t accustomed to Fred asking anything of her, unless it had to do with her opinion on who the identity of a cloaked criminal was. Had he ever really struggled to get something for himself, to be anything less than independent? What could he want? Was it something feasible, tangible, like a new pair of shoes that Daphne would squeal over? Or was it something else, something like what Velma herself wished for? The thing that Fred wanted, that he was evidently worrying over, was it something that could even be guaranteed?

“Just...just take care of the gang, when I’m gone,” he forced out. “I...I wish we would’ve spent more time together.”

Velma was at a loss for words. Never would she have expected Fred to speak to a place that was so closely related to how she currently felt. Maybe they were both considered to be the brains of the group, but their minds didn’t work similarly at all. It was a rare occasion when they sided with one another, even on something as trivial as what milkshake flavor to split at the Malt Shop.

Fred knew, then, that this was the last time, just as she did. He knew that this mystery would be the finale, the crescendo, the last unmasking.

“Of course, Fred,” she answered. “You can count on me.”

Velma swam into tasks as easily as one might breathe. But this was more than just another piece of research to examine, another ANOVA to conduct in order to analyze data. What the compass of her awareness brought her to, in the end, would always be the gang. 

Daphne and Shaggy needed her now, and Scooby, too. She couldn’t let Fred down.

Maybe it would be this mystery that ended things, that transformed their bond into something almost family-like. Perhaps this mystery would alter the grayish tone of their lives and tip the scales into a new generation, a new era. Maybe this vampire would surprise them, teaching them some sort of priceless lesson that they never learned. Maybe it would be enough to keep Fred here. Maybe Velma would realize, finally, that this wasn’t really the end— that life was filled with more mysteries than she had ever imagined.

Fred let his eyes rest on her now, his jaw hard-set as he swallowed. Maybe this would be the turning point. Maybe everything would be okay. But Velma doubted it.

So she settled in, determined to keep this normal for as long as it would rest in her hands. Because even one mystery meant the world to her.

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment/review! <3  
> I love getting comments.


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